The Edge of the Coin
by Icca
Summary: A story following Reeve through the gametime of Final Fantasy VII. He struggles with his own demons even as the world turns upside down. This story explores his feelings, ideas, and emotions as he goes so far as betrayal to save the world.
1. Explosion

The Edge of the Coin  
Chapter One: The Explosion

Reeve kept his eyes on the computer monitor as he fumbled for his soda can. He was sitting on the carpeted floor of his apartment of top-side Sector Four, programming furiously an artificial personality for his newest robot.

Robots were a passion of his, and always had been; they were the main reason he had pursued engineering to begin with, and it was a relief to be able to come home to a pile of scrap metal, a motherboard, and a screwdriver. There was something comforting in creating an artificial being who served only the purpose that he himself gave it. Automatons were so much better behaved than employees, although in all honesty the men that worked under him in the urban development branch of Shinra, Inc. were good, intelligent men with an eye for architecture and sound ideas about how a city should be run.

Technically, Midgar had a mayor, but Domino was little more than a figurehead, and Reeve and his underlings were the real driving force behind the city. It was the up to the ambitious executive alone to decide which buildings could be constructed and where, to decide how much funding the military police force received, and how much funding went to road repairs or to the fire department. Reeve really was the one who did all of the mayoral duties for the city, but he was happy with the responsibility for he loved Midgar and cared for the city as he would care for a son.

Unfortunately, while he did love most aspects of his job, there was quite a bit of pressure from the president of the huge company to make sure that he was doing everything properly, punctually, and meeting all the budget requirements. His days were full of stress, and there were times when the man felt as if his shoulders would be permanently stiff and his stomach permanently knotted. So, he needed a hobby, and building robots for no purpose other than sheer entertainment was Reeve's.

This particular robot was a cat. It had mostly black fur, although it had some white too, for the underbelly, a triangular white slash across the face, the tips of ears and tail. It wore white gloves, a crimson cape, matching boots and a golden crown. It looked comical, and Reeve couldn't help but grin every time he looked at it. He had named it already, called it Cait Sith after the large black and white cats of stories he'd once heard, but as he had come closer and closer to a final product, modeled the creature more after Puss in Boots. Either way, he was fond of it, found it delightfully goofy, and was excited that he was almost done programming it with an AI that could actually learn as it went. It had started out as just a fortune telling machine, predicting one's future love-life, or perhaps predicting where a lost object might turn up. But as code flowed from his brain to his fingers to his laptop, Reeve had gotten caught up in the joy and challenge, and the project had become so much more. He had high hopes for Cait Sith, and imagined it taking on human attributes such as mimicking emotions, responding to stimuli, holding actual primitive conversations. Programming, however, was thirsty work.

His questing fingers finally found the soda can and as he brought it to his lips, a resounding boom filled the air and the whole world seemed to shake. "The hell!" Reeve jolted, dropping the can of soda, which spilled on his pants and carpet, but Reeve didn't notice as he was running to the window, looking for the source of the noise. He saw nothing, cursed again, and headed back to his working space. He turned on his TV, flipped to the Shinra Information Network, and stared in horror at the screen. Taking in the images of a burnt-out reactor, rubble, fires, and carnage, the announcer's words barely registered in Reeve's brain.

"...destroying the Sector One reactor. Witnesses claim seeing a wild-haired blond man being confronted by MPs, but the man fled the scene before he could be apprehended. There is speculation that this is the work of the terrorist organization AVALANCHE who first made themselves known..."

Vaguely, he heard his cell phone ring and he scrambled to the kitchen area, picking the phone up off the table and answering. "Richard Reeve."

"There's been an explosion." It was the voice of Tseng, the leader of the Turks. Reeve was actually a bit surprised to hear the Wutaian voice on the other end, although he conceded to himself after a moment's deliberation that if the explosion was indeed caused by terrorists, it would be the duty of the Peacekeeping department – the SOLDIERS and the Turks – to squelch the problem.

Reeve nodded dumbly, and although the Wutaiain man surely could not see his nod, he continued then as if he had received the cue. "The Sector One reactor's been sabotaged and nearly completely reduced to rubble. The cause was a bomb set by terrorists; surely the group Avalanche. The area is secure, but you should probably come down here: the whole place stinks of mako."

Lips pursed thoughtfully. If Tseng could smell the mako in an open-air environment, there must be one hell of a leak. That would need to be dealt with, and hopefully there was still enough operational equipment on site to deal with the problem quickly; if citizens were exposed to mako for a prolonged period of time...

Reeve wanted to throw up, wanted to curl into a ball and make someone else deal with the problem. He was thirty-seven years old, but suddenly felt like his body was twice that age, tired and aching. Deferring responsibility to someone else was impossible, and really, he wouldn't trust an operation as important as dealing with a mako leak to anyone else anyway. "I'll be right over. Get people out of the area, tend those wounded from the blast, and take stock of the damages and casualty count. I'll require those upon my arrival." He hung up. It didn't feel right, ordering a Turk around, but he needed that information, and he was theoretically Tseng's superior. Also, Turks were technically the Department of Administrative Research, so let him do some information-gathering.

Without thinking, he was already dialing on his phone, listening to the sound of it ringing, willing his assistant to pick up. When he heard Simon pick up, he began talking, his voice already hoarse in growing worry. "It's Rich. I don't know if you caught it on the news, but the Sector One reactor was just blown up by terrorists. I need you to get in touch with the night crews, as well as some men in the department that are reliable. We're going to need to increase the output of reactors two and eight to provide power for Sector One. The backup generator for emergency systems should have kicked in by now, but it can't last forever, so put priority on providing the hospitals, fire, police, water, and gas places with power. I'm headed down to reactor one now; there's a mako leak. I need the night crews down there ASAP. I'm leaving you in charge of getting everyone where they're supposed to be and diverting power to One." And he hung up, trusting his assisstant implicitly to do as he was told.

Quickly, Reeve threw a jacket on, grabbed his car keys, and exited, forgetting to lock the door in his haste.

Smoke was still pouring from the blast site when Reeve arrived, and he forced his harried self through the crowd of spectators and media persons, both strapping an air filter about his head and seeking Tseng of the Turks or at the very least any other Shinra employee. He did spot the Turk, though, who was also wearing a face mask to help prevent too much mako inhilation and hastened to his side, looking up at the other man, surprised again as he always was with the Wutaian's height. "Did you get the figures I asked for?"

Tseng considered Reeve thoughtfully for a few pregnant moments before he nodded. His facial expression never changed, but Reeve felt that he could see a hint of amusement appearing in the dark man's eyes as he was appraised. There was a faint flicker of an eyebrow when Tseng saw the spot on Reeve's pants from his soda earlier, but Reeve was far too frustrated and nervous to care about his appearance right now. "The damages you can see for yourself. I cleared away the survivors as well as I could. As for casualties, I haven't a complete count yet, but we suspect we lost 78 employees. The other 13 who were scheduled at the time were wounded and already shipped off to the hospital. If there are other survivors in the wreckage. . ." he trailed off, his gaze sweeping over the hollow remains of the Sector One reactor.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, the head of urban development filled in the rest of that sentence in his head. If there were survivors in the wreckage, they were in pain, would probably die there, and even if we managed to pull them out, they'd be suffering from a case of mako poisoning. Suddenly, the thought of those seventy-eight employees being immolated by a fireball seemed quick, humane, and preferable to survival. He nodded, a decisive action that spurred the rest of his body into movement as well. He was already headed toward the reactor when the words came from his mouth. "This place does reek of mako; I'll have to see if the leak is anywhere we have easy access to it because if it's not we'll need to evacuate this whole area."

He had the feeling that Tseng wasn't listening, but did not particularly care. There was quite a bit that needed to be done, and it would be hours, days perhaps, before Reeve would get a moment's rest. Brazenly, he pushed through some of the wreckage, trying to survey the area and find out where the mako was leaking from, where they could still safely move equipment, where they could access the valve system to shut off the mako flow manually – something that was not quite safe to do without preparing the rest of the reactor, but still the easiest method to solve a leak problem.

His thoughts were slipping to the terrorists though. How could people do this? He could understand how people hated Shinra. He'd heard the arguments that mako energy was destroying the world; foolish nonsense, really, mako was perhaps a non-renewable resource, but that's all it was, a resource of the Planet that needed to be harnessed for human use and consumption. He could even almost respect those who felt so strongly against the Shinra empire to smuggle firearms and try to raise hell. Not that it was fair to the MPs who were injured or even killed in such riots, but a military power such as Shinra could only expect opposition of a militant nature.

However, this was inexcusable. The men and women killed tonight were not responsible for any decisions Shinra made. Some of them were probably concerned about the same sorts of things that the rebels were concerned with. They were just people, trying to earn a living, trying to raise families. Hell, he knew what they were paid, and it was probably barely enough to pay for rent in the slums. These people were not warriors, were not decision makers. They were innocent victims.

The figures he had, the tallies his frantic mind was keeping were exclusive to Shinra. He hadn't even begun to factor in the damage done to nearby buildings, the citizens that happened to be nearby during the blast, the many that would suffer mako poisoning even from minimal exposure to diluted forms of the substance.

It was also fortunate that hospitals and emergency facilities had backup power supplies, or there would have been even more casualties. It was one thing to hate Shinra, to sabotage something of Shinra's to spite the company, one thing to pick on SOLDIERs who could at least defend themselves, but this was sabotage of the entire city. This was nearly an act of war, utterly despicable and inexcusable. Reeve faintly tasted bile in the back of his mouth.

He pushed thoughts of the terrorists aside, knowing that the rage they induced in him was counter-productive, would only make his task harder. After looking around, he moved back to the outside of the blast radius, planning out where he'd move machines and people, how he could most easily stop the flow of mako, and so engrossed in his thoughts was he that he almost didn't notice when the night crews arrived, but suddenly there were others, and a blessed man was putting a hardhat on Reeve's head and handing him a megaphone.

The rest of the night was spent barking orders into the megaphone. He couldn't remember later what he had said, what he had ordered, who had done what; his mind was numb and his body had acted on autopilot. He didn't even remember getting to the office that morning, or sitting at his desk. But suddenly he had been there, and the adrenaline was winding down and he felt sick and then he threw up.

-

He looked up blearily, and Tseng was standing over him, still looking amused for some reason. Didn't the bastard have any compassion for those who had lost their lives? "What?" he croaked.

Tseng shrugged, placing a manila folder onto Reeve's desk. "A report on damages to non-company property as well as injuries and deaths of civilians."

Reeve stared blankly. He hadn't asked for those figures; he didn't even want to consider them right now! But of course Tseng had known he'd require that information eventually, and the sooner he looked at it and processed it, the sooner he could make some speech to the media to make Shinra look good, the sooner he could figure out what sorts of costs Shinra was looking at when it made the bold PR move to donate gil to those who had lost homes or businesses or loved ones in the incident. Because Shinra cares.

Really.

He nodded blankly, pulling the folder closer to him and wondered when he heard the accented voice talking again. "...where they will strike next, but most likely the target will be another reactor. We can assume it won't be reactor two as that would be obvious. Heidegger is going to increase security on all the reactors, but please be prepared." Another dumb nod. So no where was really safe was it? Perhaps they should clear the areas near the reactors, but fortunately all but the Sector Three reactor had only businesses near them. Although the Sector Three apartment complex near the reactor was large and might need to be evacuated.

Shit shit shit! His parents lived there; they could be in danger. And no where was really safe; after all, those goddamned terrorists might not strike a reactor. If he moved his parents into a hotel, it would be disgusting irony if the terrorists decided to strike a hotel next. His stomach knotted itself. Anywhere above the plates could be a target, particularly because it seemed that these Avalanche people were not just anti-Shinra but anti-Midgar as well. Probably the only place that was safe was the slums. But he couldn't very well ask his parents to stay down in the slums could he? It was safer from explosions, but there wasn't really a place where one was safe from thieves and thugs. Hell, putting his parents up in a whorehouse until the terrorists were brought to justice would be safer, if somewhat uncomfortable. A whorehouse? What about a love hotel?

Reeve realized he had lost himself in introspection again and looked up to ask Tseng if there was anything else, but the man was already gone and the office door closed. Reeve was only slightly surprised at the man's speed and silence, but while he had little interaction with the Turks throughout the decade and a half that he worked with Shinra, he had known Tseng long enough to not be too terribly surprised by his abrupt and silent arrivals and departures. All the better, he had a phone call to make. He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Yeah, Mom? It's me..." His voice was light, almost cheerful, and it made him sick and bitter at how genuine he sounded. He let himself slip back into his native Junon accent. "Yep, a'course I'm alrigh'... Everythin's taken care of, Ma. Lissen. I was thinkin' that you 'n' dad don' get out much, and mebbe this whole inciden' made me realize life coul' end any time, so y'all shoul' take a vacation now afore somethin' 'appens an' ya can't anymore... Well, no not outside Midgar, a'course. I know Dad can' really travel anymore... Jus', there's this 'otel down inna lower part 'a Midgar called th'Honeybee Inn. I know what it sounds like, but it's a 'otel fer couples in love, an' mebbe y'all need some'in' romantic. Why don' you two stay down there 'n' it'll be my treat? Fer a week or so. Treat yerselves." He nodded unconsciously as his mother deliberated on the other end of the line. "Look, I'll make th'reservations an' I'll letcha know when y'ken check in an' I'll even sen' a cab over so y'don' needa worry 'bout transportation. I'll letcha know when I make th'reservation." And he hung up before she could protest.

It was only a matter of minutes that he set up the reservation with the Honeybee Inn, informed his parents that a cab would be waiting for them in a few hours, and managed to stop worrying about them. The thought of his parents in a place like the 'Bee Inn was somewhat upsetting, but really, it was the safest place for them. And he'd make sure that he could keep an eye on them, too. However, before he worried too much about his parents, there were some reports to file, and some PR speeches to write. Shaking his head, he bent over his desk and returned to work.

The damages were huge, and the reactor's reparation costs in both time and money were astronomical. So he put those aside for now, leaving a post-it note on top of those papers to pull out the blueprints for the reactor later for future reference. He looked through the manila folder now, afraid of what he might find, and feeling sick again. The smell of mako was thick in the air, he realized, and remembered the night's frantic scramble to secure the leak. His clothes must be drenched in the stuff. It smelled awful. But he had to focus, have to look at the numbers as bleak as they surely will be, had to... it was very hard to focus with this headache... his head was swimming and his ears felt full of cotton. The mako stench was really getting to him, wasn't it... the engineer slumped forward onto his desk, passing out ungracefully on a pile of charts and spreadsheets.

((Author's note: Whew. This is my Reeve story. I'm a big Reeve fan and think about his side of the story a little too much, and a friend recently proposed a thought that I'd never considered, and so I'm going to write that side of it for this fic. It'll end up being a bit dark, I do believe.

Looking at it looks like Reeve's been a popular character lately oo I hope you like my interpretation of him. I have a lot of background and personality for him that I was of course unable to include in this chapter, so I put in the big stuff – reactor one exploding, how exactly it is that his parents are there to spy on in the Honeybee Inn, and how he feels about the terrorists. There's a little bit about Cait Sith, but obviously there will be more of that later. It's an awkward place to break the chapter, but I think if I kept on, it would end up being really really long and so I'd rather have a somewhat anticlimactic chapter than a really long meandering one.

It hasn't been edited too much, so really I'd like to edit it and make a final draft of it, so please give me input. Also, give me input for what aspects of him I should bring up in the fic. There's lots of ideas in my head about the character, and I'm not sure what I'm going to include and what I'm going to leave out for the sake of keeping the story interesting. Wow, this is a really long author's note. I'll quit now. Please comment or email. Byebye!))


	2. Guilt

((Author's Note: Well, here's chapter two! It took me longer than it should have. Ah well, writer's block happens. Thanks to Chris for beta-reading! You rock :D As a disclaimer: I'm merely playing in the world of Final Fantasy Seven with the playing pieces Square-Enix provided. This is fanfiction, not original fiction. That said, bring on the story! As always, readers, please feel free to email me, and please write up a review especially if you feel I'm doing something poorly!))

Reeve started, jerking awake to the ringing of his phone. He blinked wildly at his surroundings taking in his office that was constantly in a state of comfortable disorder. Uncomprehending, he stared at the phone for a few moments, only realizing once it had stopped ringing that he was supposed to pick it up. Reeve did not function well without adequate sleep.

How long _had_ he been asleep? The thought of sleeping through the entire day filled him with dread from the pit of his stomach; so much needed to be done and he had barely started! He looked down at his watch. Ten-thirty am. That was not nearly as bad as he had imagined, but still the clothes that he wore reeked of mako and he doubted he could concentrate in the state he was in. The best thing would be to delegate his tasks to those underneath him for now and stop back to his apartment for a quick meal and a shower. Then his mind would be clearer at least and he could actually become productive instead of fall asleep at his desk thus ensuring that no work got done.

That decided, he placed papers in various folders, stood, stretched, and walked out of his office and to the main reception area of the urban development floor, folders in hand. He dropped off the folders at his secretary's desk, asking the woman to make sure that the appropriate people received them. "The red binder needs to go to Alex, the blue to Simon. And when the PR guys have decided what I need to say to the media, stick whatever they give you on my desk, please? And make sure to take any phone messages too.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he added as he turned to the door. The woman's nose and eyes crinkled in disgust, and as he noticed this out of the corner of his eye, he felt the need to add: "Just stopping by the apartment for a shower." He almost laughed, then, finding his comment for some reason hysterically funny, but any potential laughter that may have been in him was driven out of him from the night's toils.

* * *

Arriving at his apartment in Sector Four after a somewhat erratic drive from the Shinra tower, Reeve frowned, startled, when he found the door unlocked. He assumed that he had just forgotten to lock it in his haste the night before and shook his head, mentally chiding himself as he entered. Cait Sith's robotic head swiveled to look at him, the motion-sensors kicking in. It probably was a good sign that Cait Sith was still active, as he imagined that any thief that may have broken in would have tried to destroy something that watched his every movement in the fear of being identified to the military police later. Even with that slight reassurance, he looked around to take stock of the apartment in case his apartment had indeed been burglarized. The floor was still cluttered with parts that he was using to build Cait Sith, and his laptop was still laying on the couch where he had left it. It was off, probably because the batteries had run out. The far wall had two enormous windows looking out over the city of Midgar, the blinds permanently rolled up so as not to block the view.

The eastern wall had some paintings and against it stood a large flat-screen television. On the far half of that same wall was another door that lead into his bedroom. Situated in front of the television was a broad oak coffee table, currently cluttered with technical drawings as well as containers full of small parts – bolts, screws – and rolls of wires. The western wall had the kitchen area of the apartment: a white bar counter separated it from the rest of the apartment, and behind the counter stood the refrigerator, a stove, microwave and some cabinets; it was a nice kitchen area with all the modern conveniences.

Seeing all was in order, and convincing himself again that no one had intruded, Reeve carefully picked his way past the scattered Cait Sith parts and headed into the bedroom. This room was much smaller, incredibly cramped by his standards, having only room for a queen-sized bed, a small dresser, and some bookshelves which were filled with books on city planning, mako energy, engineering and architecture. There was an end table next to the left side of the bed though, on which was a lamp, alarm clock and a deck of playing cards.

Reeve was not interested in anything but a shower right now and so he beelined for the closet, acquiring a towel and a washcloth, and then he stepped into the bathroom, undressed and stepped into the shower.

Hot water rained against his body, comforting and relaxing after the last frantic twelve hours. It washed away the mako stink, the tension left in his muscles, the fuzziness of his head. He leaned against the shower wall, head resting against tiles, letting the water deluge over him. For some reason, the shower did not bring as much comfort as he had thought; after a while it left him only with a feeling of deep guilt for those that lost their lives because of something he had built. Yes, it had been the terrorists who had blown it up, but he was the one who had built the reactor, who decided it should suction mako from the earth and refine it, convert it into electricity and fuels. He was the one who had not built adequate safety mechanisms on the reactor. Instead of focusing on its output, he should have focused on what would happen should something go wrong.

In truth, the Midgar reactors were much more safe than the Gongaga reactor had ever been. The incident with that reactor had taught him a lot, made him realize how fragile human creations could be. He had spent a lot of time redesigning, forcing all the other reactors to have an automatic shut-down system in case of even minor overheating, in case the reactor was being overloaded from drawing out too much mako energy. However, why hadn't he properly planned for terrorists? Did he really think that Shinra was and would always be invincible? That no one would ever sabotage a reactor?

Yes, he had, and now he had the deaths of innocents on his conscience.

The terrorists would pay for this; Shinra had a system of sparing no blows when it came to rebellions or even people grumbling a bit too loudly about how corrupt the company might seem. Reeve himself would make sure that these terrorists were punished severely. A public execution, perhaps. Even that seemed too kind in the wake of this incident.

He had reviewed the figures of the non-company employees who were killed in the blast briefly before he had fallen asleep, and at the time his brain did not really manage to process the figures. 163 known casualties outside the company. One hundred and sixty-three innocent civilians just passing through the area when suddenly an explosion ended their world in one catastrophic moment. Knowing what he did, he knew that those who did not die immediately suffered immensely; burns were supposedly the most painful type of wounds to receive. Add into that a sudden release of mako to aggravate wounds as well as cause illness in those whose bodies did not react well to the often toxic substance.

If that many people had died, how many families were destroyed? And the families of the men working in the reactor at the time? Would they now starve without a provider to bring home a paycheck every two weeks? He had been so frantic to keep his parents safe, what if he, like so many others, lost the chance to ever speak to his parents again because of the bombing?

His stomach was turning again and bile rose to the back of his mouth. He turned the shower off, stepped out and dried himself off. Guilt turned into feelings of anger and resentment, which quickly grew to hate. The terrorists – Avalanche, Tseng had called them – would come to justice, and when they did, Reeve would laugh. He dressed himself in fresh clothes, donning a suit of his favorite shade of blue and, in a fit of defiance to office conformity and serious atmosphere, an orange tie.

He walked past Cait Sith again, headed to the front door of the apartment, and as the creation's mechanical eyes focused on him, he found himself with an idea. Perhaps he could keep an eye on his parents after all. Oh, he wouldn't spy on them, of course. That would not only be immoral but somewhat disturbing as well, considering the place he wanted them to hide out. He glanced at the clock, decided that another half hour to an hour away from the office would not be crippling to his ability to get everything sorted out on time, and turned about, walking instead to the chaos that was the Cait Sith project. He dug through the clutter on the coffee table for his laptop's adapter and plugged it into a wall socket. A thin wire was already connecting Cait Sith to the laptop from his programming the night before, so he opened up his code editing program and began to type.

It was a simple matter to program Cait Sith to send a message to his laptop remotely if he sensed a door opening or closing. He tested it a few times, having Cait Sith situated in different areas of the apartment, just to be thorough. It was another matter entirely for Reeve to program Cait Sith to count the people in the room after each time a door opened or closed, and that was impossible to test without getting the neighbors involved, and he never actually got around to introducing himself to his neighbors. So he did the best that he could; it would of course be better if he could have Cait Sith identify other people in the room, but that would involve cameras, not just vague sensory systems. He would add that later.

And he would add it later, simply because it seemed incomplete that it would be able to watch people in a room and track their movements without the robot also being able to identify the people it watched or being able to send a video feed to Reeve. It was not a necessary function, certainly, and Reeve respected other people's privacy enough that he surely would never utilize it, but it was the the need to have his project one hundred per cent complete that would cause him to spend many extra hours on the cat and invest in a small but durable camera.

Finally finishing, he cleaned up the clutter a bit, although that just meant throwing some parts that were on the floor onto the coffee table and kitchen bar area, not actually organizing or sorting anything, and picked up both his laptop and Cait Sith, grasping them awkwardly in one arm as he left his apartment at one in the afternoon. This time he remembered to lock the door.

* * *

The boy frowned at Reeve. "Well, yah, I'll deliver it for ya, but you sure you wanna send somethin' to the 'Bee Inn? Tha's a pretty strange place fer someone like you." The youth's features contorted into a wide grin. "Well, maybe not, I guess."

Reeve just sighed and nodded. "Yes. The cat is a present for two people that will be arriving there in a few hours. I want it there when they arrive. It's their anniversary, and I don't really know why they picked a place like the HoneyBee Inn, but that's no reason not to give them their anniversary present, now is it? I already told you I'd give you forty gil to deliver it."

The boy nodded again. Of course he'd deliver it. Forty gil was a lot and the man, Mr. Reeve, who often asked him to deliver items throughout Midgar was a loyal customer of Billy's Freelance Delivery Service. Normally he only charged thirty to go from above the plates to below with a package, but a place like Wallmarket was certainly no place for a child, even one as tough and professional as Billy. So Reeve had offered him the extra gil to compensate, and Billy thought it a fair deal.

"Well, alrigh', it'll get there when I go down t'the slums. I'm gonna try to see if'n my other clients need anythin' afore I jump onna train, though. But it'll be there in mebbe an hour, two tops."

Reeve nodded again at the boy. That was a fine time-frame and he was grateful that the boy would even make the trip for him. He often asked Billy to deliver things for him, simply because he did not have the time to deliver them himself and the Midgar Internal Post Office took days to deliver something that would only take minutes to do personally. He handed the boy a box. It contained the robotic cat; after Cait Sith had taken to turning to stare at half the people that Reeve passed on the street, the man had decided that putting Cait Sith in a box would be a much better way to transport it. He then handed Billy forty gil. "There's your payment. Be careful."

The youth laughed, loud and obnoxiously. "I'm always careful, Mr. Reeve. Don'choo worry about that!"

Reeve shook his head with a small grin. The boy was a rascal and Reeve oftentimes found him quite annoying, but at the same time, the child had a spirit that Reeve tended to almost envy. He did hope that Billy was careful, however. There was more to watch out for in the city than the boy knew.

* * *

He arrived at the Shinra building without incident, although waiting outside were swarms of reporters who, upon seeing the head of urban development coming toward the building nearly crushed him in their enthusiasm to ask him questions, to get him to say something quotable that they could include in their articles. Reeve offered some snippets of conversation, things he knew that the president would approve of. "Our hearts go out to the families of those lost in the blast," and, "Shinra is currently doing all it can to stop the terrorists," and, "They will meet justice." It startled Reeve later when he saw himself on television how cold his voice sounded when delivering those words. 


	3. Catalyst

((A/N: Well, Reeve gained a name canonically, so here he is as Reeve Tuesti. Man that feels strange. I'll have to fix the first chapters. Hm. Anyway, here's a very very late chapter three.))

Reeve barely had time to settle in to work again before the phone rang. He glared at it for long moments, dreading who might wait on the other end of the line. He slowly reached out and picked up the receiver, brought it to his ear. "Tuesti."

"Reeve, they're attacking Reactor Five."

It was Heidegger. And as usual, Heidegger was shouting into the phone so loudly that Reeve had trouble understanding. Wincing, he held the phone further from his ear. "Try that again."

"They're attacking Five. In it right now. So shut down the reactor and make sure you can compensate for it if it goes down suddenly."  
Reeve took a deep breath before he answered as panic, anger, and a headache all rushed him at once. Slowly, he responded, his voice heavy and dull on his tongue. "I can't. You can't just shut off a reactor on a moment's notice. I'd need access to the reactor, and if you want to avoid a blackout, I'd need at least a half-hour to divert power from the others."

The phone crackled as Heidegger laughed. "Then I guess you'd better hope that the reactor doesn't blow!" Then Reeve heard a click and the line went dead.

He sat there, phone still to his ear, mind racing with all the possibilities of what could be happening. Had the heightened security worked? Was AVALANCHE stopped in time? And _what the fuck was so funny about the reactor exploding? _

He was, in fact, still staring into space when the whole office reverberated. Dropping the receiver, Reeve snapped his head sharply toward the window and stared at the oily black smoke that spewed from Reactor Five.

* * *

"Tell me they're dead." 

Multiple pairs of eyes focused on the man now entering President Shinra's office, their gaze stony and impenetrable. Reeve normally would have felt suddenly awkward being at the center of those eyes' attention, but he was far too angry. "Tell me they're dead," he repeated.

President Shinra leaned back, his huge leather chair groaning from the weight. He tapped ash off his cigar with pudgy fingers and brought it to his mouth, chewing on the end for a moment. He removed the cigar from his lips and arched a red eyebrow at the engineer. "The ones in the reactor are, Tuesti. Calm down." The other men in the room – Heideggar and Tseng – shifted their weight slightly, the subtle body movement hinting at the smirk their faces did not show.

"Calm down?" his voice cracked even as he said it, and he knew he was shaking. He looked a fool like this and knew it, but right now his image mattered least of all. His fists clenched until his fingers creaked. "I was assured that they would be taken care of, President Shinra, but they were not. Another one of my reactors exploded. And it had damn well better be the last."

Reeve was suddenly aware that the room was still. Nothing moved, it almost seemed that no one was breathing. Heideggar turned red, though, straining to keep a straight face, either straight from yelling or from laughing, Reeve could not tell. Tseng stood ready to pounce like a panther stalking its prey, and Shinra himself appraised Reeve with a flat look, still from shock most likely.

Reeve knew he was in trouble.

He swallowed, and without thinking his hands adjusted his tie. "Ah, you see," he tried to explain, but found himself only stammering. His knees felt weak and his spine cold; all resolve had fled from him and he was all too aware. He could feel willpower draining from him like blood from a gutted fish. "Ah," he finally sputtered, with what little finality he could muster, "I just don't want to, ah, see more deaths."

The president flicked his cigar twice over the ashtray, although it did not need it. "Tuesti," he said slowly but firmly, "this is not your concern. You just need to rebuild things when we tell you. We are taking care of it."

His nod came unbidden and as soon as he realized he was bowing and scraping, he wished he had more self-control. Loathing himself for everything he couldn't say, he managed, "Thank you, sir." Then, before he could dig himself deeper, he turned and left the presidential suite. He could feel the eyes of the president follow him, to the extent that it was a literal relief to be out of eyeshot.

Reeve gave himself a few moments, taking slow and deep breaths before he took the next flight of stairs down closer to his office. He walked in a daze, barely even noticing when he finally reached his desk and slumped into his chair. He took a sip of coffee that he had left on his desk, and the cold stale taste brought him back to reality. Making a face at the taste, he forced himself to drink more, eyes darting to his giant window, lingering on the thick black tendrils of smoke that still creeped upward from the ex-reactor.

He sighed and put the coffee down, lips forming into a hard line. Something had to be done, and he was not sure the president was really up for it. With the president's profit-only mentality and Heidegger's constant knee-jerk reactions that lead to him going over-the-top on all things, Reeve was less than confident that there wouldn't be more damage to the city in the process of getting rid of the terrorists.

They had, after all, already tried sacrificing a reactor to get to AVALANCHE.

Reeve turned to his computer, logged into his Cait Sith surveillance program, to check on his parents. For the sake of decency he turned on only the sound, just in case his parents were changing, and he promised himself that since he was doing this for their safety, it wasn't that he was actually infringing on their privacy. He hoped.

As it turned out, the robot cat had not even been delivered yet. He heard the sounds of Wall Market in the background, loud tasteless music mixed with drunken shouts, even this early in the day. He flipped on the visual input, but the feed still left a lot to be desired, full of lines and snow and only black-and-white when a real picture could even be seen. He sighed, turned the video off again and just listened.

The voices that he could hear were jumbled and garbled. He could make out Billy asking something, could make out a gruff response.

"What message... wan' me t' deliver?" Reeve rolled his eyes. If the boy didn't stop to take new delivery orders, Cait Sith would have reached his parents by now.

"...Don that... sector seven... Shinra's gonna drop..." Reeve sat up, heart pounding. He swallowed and turned the sound up, but unfortunately that only increased the amount of feedback screeching he heard.

"Wha', really?"

"Yeah, blame ... AVALANCHE... an' tell him to... phone on." The words he could not hear haunted him. Fears of the president and Heidegger going overboard flooded over him. He leaned in next to his speakers. The crackle of bad sound hurt his ears, but it was a willing price to pay for clarification, although it never came.

He sighed and turned the knob on his speaker back down to a reasonable level, and looked up. When he did, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Tseng was standing just inside his office, his head cocked slightly to the side, face completely unreadable. The office door was shut; Tseng had been here for a while and Reeve, struggling to hear what was being said, had not noticed. He swallowed the painful lump in his throat, and immediately felt foolish for doing so.

He was doing nothing wrong, even if he was spying on Wall Market. Tseng being an unnerving-as-hell man was the only reason he was startled. And he supposed he did feel a twinge of guilt for the spying, but it still wasn't _wrong._

He composed himself, folded his hands in front of him on the desk and arched an eyebrow, trying to look severe and serious. "Can I help you?"

Tseng snorted, just a slight exhale of what Reeve thought was amusement. He strode closer to the desk, looked down at the urban development head. "So Corneo has an information network." He paused then, distinctly not mentioning that Shinra and sector seven had been mentioned at all. Reeve waited.

"How were you hearing that?" Dark eyes focused on Reeve, narrowed to slits, and Reeve felt the blood drain from his head.

He swallowed again, then spoke, more haltingly than he'd later admit. Hastily he started to explain, "I made a robot. It wasn't to spy on Corneo, though. Ah," he started to speak more, but stopped, the words not coming.

Tseng nodded slowly. "I see." He shifted the conversation abruptly. "I thought you would be interested in knowing that the president's plan is to utilize the Plate Release System over Sector Seven. That is where the terrorists have made their headquarters."

Reeve's face must have shown the abject horror that he felt, for Tseng snorted again. "You're not going to be able to convince him otherwise, but perhaps you would like to start planning to rebuild." His Wutaiian eyes continued to bore into Reeve.

Reeve's fists clenched, his teeth ground together. He felt himself shaking and he no longer even noticed the Turk's dangerous presence. He pushed his chair back and stood, slowly and deliberately, steeled to fight. He nodded to Tseng, stiffly started to walk toward the door. "I'll need to speak to the president, then." Each word was forced out through his clenched jaw.

Tseng remained behind after Reeve had left, casually circling the desk, stopping in front of Reeve's computer. He typed into the keyboard, opened a few files, checked a few programs. He nodded, then, more to himself than to anyone and returned the computer to the way he had found it. He exited Reeve's office, then, pulling out his phone and flipping it open. He dialed, called. "It's Tseng. Look in on Corneo; he's got a spy. I'll be in Five, if you need me. Collecting the specimen."


	4. Break

The words flew from his mouth, fast and furious. "What the hell do you think you're doing? This is extreme! Don't you give a damn about the _people _who live in this city? This is worse than what the terrorists themselves are even doing!"

Shinra leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbows onto his desk. He focused on Reeve like a lion watches a gazelle. Finally he spoke. "You seem a little tense, Reeve."

Trembling as the adrenaline began to drain from his body, Reeve became aware then that other people were in the room: Heideggar, Tseng, a few ever-present bodyguards. He didn't remember moving past them. He didn't even remember coming here, to the president's office. He searched for words, but did not find them before Shinra continued, silky words flowing from thick, chapped lips. "Perhaps you need a little vacation? Some time off to decompress?"

Reeve stared. His anger had fled, leaving only emptiness, confusion and a vague sense of dread. Was this a threat? Was this just a way to get him out of the way so that the president could use whatever over-zealous method he could think of to deal with these terrorists? Unable to figure out anything more to do, he turned and walked to the stairway, willing his shaking legs to keep from giving.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tseng pull out his phone and dial.

* * *

Reeve returned to his apartment on autopilot, letting his now more steady legs take him to the proper train terminals and then to the appropriate bus stop. It was just as well that he didn't remember the trip later, the people getting off at Sector 7, for he hadn't the energy left for more anger. Without even taking his jacket off, he sunk down on his couch and slept.

When he woke up, his jaw ached and his head pounded. He blearily looked around and took a small comfort in not being at work. He wasn't sure when he would return, when he could return. He knew that for now his job was still safe; no one was properly trained to replace him, both out of his craving for job security and his general laziness regarding mentoring. Despite it being a temporary dismissal from Shinra, perhaps he really did need a break. He inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, then sat up. The tension he'd been carrying in his shoulders and back let themselves known through throbbing aches, a steady hum of discomfort that he feared would stay for months if not years based on how things seemed to be progressing.

He walked woodenly to the bathroom and undressed, slipping into the shower before it even got warmed up. As the water heated, the haze of the past few days rose about him and coalesced with the steam to coat everything with gray. Reeve scrubbed himself mechanically, but stayed in the shower to let the hot water gently massage his sore back. Finally he could relax for a moment, regain a bit of the energy he'd lost.

Suddenly, he smashed his fist against the shower wall, letting out a wordless, primal scream. It was all so wrong, so painfully wrong and he was completely helpless to change it. He cried, there in the shower, thankful that even though no one could see him, the water hid his tears and his choking sobs. How had it all come to this?

An electronic jingle brought him back to his apartment. The shower had grown cold while he lost himself in misery. He turned off the water and stepped out, dragging a towel over himself haphazardly. He shivered and rummaged through his pants pocket for his phone with no intention of answering it, only silencing it. The caller ID read Herb Palmer. Palmer and Reeve hadn't interacted outside the office for years, and even at work they really only met at board meetings, as there was no overlap between the Department of Space Exploration and Urban Dev. Could the actually be a social call? Reeve stared at the phone and the caller ID, his lips wrinkled into a slight frown until the phone stopped its ringing and the display went dark.

Reeve sighed and changed into casual clothes, a pair of jeans and the first shirt he could find without buttons. The clothes clung to his still-damp body which he hated, but it was too late to dry off more, now. When he emerged from his tiny bedroom, he glanced at his phone again. The icon was blinking to tell him that he had a new voice message. He shrugged and dialed his phone and listened to the voicemail.

"Reeve, this is Herb Palmer. Say, I heard about um, what Shinra's planning and how you reacted and I mean, I uh, can't blame you." There was an odd nervous giggle. "Anyway, I thought you could use some cheering up. I know we haven't uh, really been social lately, but for old time's sake, want to hit up a diner? Call me back, I'll have my phone on. Thanks."

Reeve let out a slow sigh and deleted the message. He wanted to go to sleep again, but perhaps a bit of interaction with a sympathetic quasi-friend would do him good. And food, too; he hadn't eaten a proper meal in days. He opened his contact list and selected Palmer.

* * *

"And then we were thrown out of Cosmo Canyon and the dean was nearly having a fit, remember?" Palmer said, barely getting his words out through the laughter. His whole face was contorted by merriment, and despite himself, despite everything, Reeve even managed a smile.

"We were sure hellions back in school, weren't we?"

"Heavens, yes. It's hard to believe we're respectable people today!"

Well, at least one of us is respectable, Reeve thought to himself. Though, perhaps Palmer knew this brushed off feeling – his department's budget was always getting smaller, bits hacked off for other projects. Maybe the Shinra 028 had been Palmer's Midgar.

"Reeve? You've gone quiet again. It'll cause indigestion if you brood too much!"

Actually, all the grease from his generous if cholesterol-laden eggs and bacon meal would be the more likely source of indigestion. Reeve kept this thought to himself. "I'm just tired. Thanks for inviting me out, Herb."

"That's it, you're leaving already?"

"Already?" Reeve echoed, glancing at his watch. They'd been chatting and reminiscing and talking about anything but recent events for two hours now.

Palmer put up his hands and chuckled, "Okay, okay. You're right. Get some sleep, Tuestie. You'll need it." Reeve left some gil on the table and stood up. Palmer hedged. "And Reeve? Let's do this again some time. And sorry."

Reeve arched an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

A sympathetic grin arose on Palmer's lips. "Your life sucks right now. Sorry."

Reeve sighed and nodded, then left. The trip home was boring, but it was not as bleak as his last train ride had been. Seeing his old friend had indeed lifted his spirits. And frankly, being calmer and clearer could only help the rebuilding and damage-control processes.

It was dark when he disembarked at his platform, and he shrugged against the cool night air. Midgar was only warm in the summer, at which point it became sweltering. Since it was not summer, there was a perpetual chill in the nights and a bite in the mornings. He should have thought to brought a light jacket, at least. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hurried home, head down. He was glad to return to his building where there was at least no wind, and his hands and nose warmed as he rode the elevator to his floor. He reached in his pocket to pull out his keys, but it turned out they were not needed.

"Must've forgotten to lock it again," Reeve muttered to himself as he entered his dark apartment. He was weary and so immediately went to bed, so ready to sink into a much-needed restful sleep that he did not even notice that his papers and machine parts were not arranged as he had left them.


	5. Job

Reeve stood by the window, staring out. Hazy lights glowed and flickered through the smoggy mist that blanketed Midgar, but great buildings towered out of that ocean, rising toward the heavens. The city was alive, an organic machine, ever growing and ever-moving. Old, dead parts were shorn away, replaced by new flesh. People came and went in an endless stream; some in a monotonous route and others as one-time visitors awed by Midgar's size and neon lights. But now it was going to be rent apart, an unnecessary amputation of an entire arm to halt the spreading disease in its legs. He sipped coffee from a cup, in an attempt to wake himself up. He'd been so tired lately, too tired to do anything but stand and stare out the window. What good spirits he'd salvaged from his outing with Palmer had dulled, dimmed like the city lights below. It was his second day off from work, and the time crawled past, snaking inexorably forward.

He sighed and turned away. He sat down again on the couch, setting his mug on the bare coffee table surface since the coaster was already in use for yesterday's mug. His laptop screen was back to the screen saver, and so he tapped the keypad. The online poker game he had running was still up, though he was set as "away." He closed the program, and began to open his email. Before it loaded though, he exited the program, closing his eyes as he did so. He'd turned off his phone earlier to avoid any conversation. Why should he read his email, especially since they would be relating to the one thing he could not bear to think of right now?

He leaned back, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. He considered going back to sleep, then decided against it. He sat up straight, and glanced at his phone. Probably no one had even tried to call him anyway. Sure enough, though, one of the lights was blinking, silently urging him to check his messages. He picked up the phone roughly, and pressed some buttons. Only one missed call, from his parents.

Shit.

He'd not called his parents after the Mako 5 explosion. They would have been okay; he'd sent them to that hotel for that, but obviously they'd have been shaken up. And who knows if they had a home to return to? He dialed his parents without checking the message.

His mother's comforting voice responded. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mom. I saw you called."

"Reeve! How good to hear from you. We were worried."

Reeve couldn't help but let out a breath of laughter. "Worried? I was worried about _you. _What with the explosion..." He paused, awkwardly and rubbed his beard. "Sorry I didn't call."

"Oh, that's alright, dear," his mother soothed. "That vacation you sent us on was great timing. We got to stay an extra night for free in light of the circumstances. Apparently our building is alright, and we're allowed to return there now."

"Right," Reeve said, "since there wasn't a huge mako leak like when the other one blew up."

"Your poor father! He's all shook up, you know. I'm surprised he could take it. Terrorists! How scary!"

"Yeah, Mom. Shinra's working on breaking them up. Is Dad okay?"

"Well enough, dear. When are you coming to visit next?"

Reeve hesitated before answering, and spoke with a voice laden with false apology. "Sorry Mom, I'm really busy with work right now. I mean, there's a lot of rebuilding to do, and the usual work on top of it. Um."

"Oh." His mother sighed on the other side of the line. She tried to keep the disappointment from her tone, but Reeve, as a guilty child, could hear it clearly. "That's alright dear. We just love to see you, but we know how busy you are. We're so proud of you, living in the big city and being a really important boy in your company."

"Thanks," he responded awkwardly. "I'm going to go, Mom. Sorry I didn't call before. Oh! Almost forgot. Did you get that little cat robot I sent to sit in your room?"

"Oh, Reeve, we didn't realize that was from you! We thought it was a normal part of the hotel! That place was a little... strange." He found his mom searching for words and felt embarrassed for her. "But really, thank you for the vacation. It was nice, and romantic in its own way."

"I'm glad to hear it, Mom. So I'm going to go. Take care."

"Goodbye, Son. We love you."

"Love ya too, Mom."

Reeve sighed, hanging up the phone. He would have loved his mother's home cooking, but he did not have the energy. It was draining just talking to his parents, and besides, he'd only be dour and bring down his family's mood. He looked out the window from his seat on the couch, and though he could not see much, he could imagine Midgar spreading out under him, still whole. He did not know when the plate was going to collapse, only that it would. He tried to imagine it what Midgar would look like once Sector 7 was severed, but it was impossible to do so. Somehow, it made it a little easier to anticipate, since he could not wrap his mind around it.

He sighed again, and stood up to take his old place by the window.

* * *

The plate fell.

It was a metal landslide, screeching and thundering downward, taking with it buildings, cars, people who were then subsequently buried by other buildings, cars, and people. The slums below had no chance. The screams of metal twisting under the weight of concrete stood in for those who could not, who would never scream again. Midgar would never be the same, no matter how nicely it was rebuilt. With the plate, the draw of Midgar to tourists collapsed, the citizen's security collapsed, and so did Reeve's trust in humankind.

After the collapse, a resounding silence filled the air, buzzing in Reeve's ears and quieting even his internal voice to a low murmur. There was a comfort in the silence; it allowed Reeve to grieve, allowed the whole of Midgar grieve with him. And at least it was over now. There would be no more destruction. Even though that section of the city and the people unlucky enough to be there at the wrong time could never be replaced – and really, how could you even want to replace Sector 7 with something else entirely? – there was only one way to go from here. In decades, though this event would still be remembered, the pain would dull and the city would heal.

Two days after the tragedy, Reeve received a phone call from vice-president Rufus. The engineer was still on break, but he suspected that this call meant he would be asked into the office again.

"This is Reeve." He listened to Rufus, then said, "No, I've been avoiding the news. I'm sorry for your loss." Then, "Yes, I'll be in tomorrow morning."

* * *

Reeve arrived at work early. Part of the walkway to the Shinra building was blocked off; one of the huge plate glass windows was shattered and there was broken glass littering the ground. He didn't ask how it had happened, but felt a bit smug and vindicated; it was only fair. Shinra had been responsible for destroying part of the city, so why not have part of their building destroyed?

Apparently that was not all the damage though; the main elevators were out and there were signs leading employees to the freight elevator, a huge metal monstrosity that rumbled upward far too slowly. There were a few floors where the elevator did not stop, but this did not incite any grumbling from Reeve's fellow passengers. He must have missed a lot.

Upon his eventual arrival to his floor, Reeve bee-lined to his receptionist's desk. "Jean, what in the Planet happened here?"

His secretary sourly pursed her lips. "It's Jenny, Mr. Tuestie. I swear, I've been working for you for years now. Could you bother to learn my name?"

Reeve blinked twice, then sighed. He rubbed his beard with the back of his hand, then said very sincerely, "I'm sorry, Jenny. You're right." He shook his head, "But I really would like to know what happened here."

It was Jenny's turn to sigh. "Well, after they brought down the plate, those terrorists came _here_. They were apprehended, but then they escaped and killed a huge number of people, including the president. They even left their huge blade here. They got away, but the damage to the building is unbelievable. There's rumors going around too that Sephiroth returned from the grave and joined forces with them, and I hate to admit it but with everything that happened, I sort of believe it myself."

Reeve nodded slowly, and willed his jaw to unclench. "I see," was all he said before he turned on his heel and entered his office.

Before he was done processing everything he noticed two strange things: his notes and blueprints for Cait Sith were spread all over his desk, and Tseng was sitting at said desk, fingers steepled, looking calm and serene. "Um, hello."

Tseng nodded his greeting, then stood up, gesturing for Reeve to sit down in his recently vacated chair, to which the engineer complied. Tseng then leaned down and tapped the copies of Reeve's notes. "We want you to build this for us."

Reeve blinked, looking up at Tseng with a furrowed brow. "My hobby robot?"

Tseng nodded, standing straight and crossing his arms over his chest. "We want to use it to spy on AVALANCHE. It can constantly transmit data home and since it's artificial it cant give away any signs of it's job."

Well, he couldn't argue that. "Well, to do it right, I'd need a team."

"We want it to be completely confidential. Right now only President Rufus, you and myself know that we want to do this."

Reeve closed his eyes to think, absent-mindedly tapping his fingers upon the stack of papers in front of him. Then he nodded. "I can distribute the work so that no one knows what the finished project will be. I'd have to be the go-between between the teams, but I can do that pretty easily."

The Turk nodded. "Then we'll do it."

"Who'll operate it?

"Reno. He's out of commission right now, and he can watch a robot from anywhere. Alternatively, if he recovers quickly, we have a new hire who can do it."

"I want to do it."

Tseng's face remained completely stoic. "Excuse me?"

"I'm already familiar with the robot, and I'll be intimately involved in its creation. I'll be able to handle it better than anyone Besides, most of the time I just need to keep the information feed running in the background. And," he hesitated sightly, before soldiering on, "I hate them. I want to contribute to their downfall."

Tseng nodded. "Fine. Keep it entirely to yourself. Don't even tell my Turks. I'll bring it up to President Rufus and we'll figure out what information you'll need to know. Please get to work immediately."

With a nod, Reeve accepted his new job as a spy.


End file.
